Dreams
by AndyDona.chan
Summary: Inspired in the song "It was always you" by Maroon 5. Sherlock has a dream, he wokes up to find that he now doesn't feel the same towards certain pathologist
1. Chapter 1

**Judging by the way it was received at AO3 I'm posting it here, hopefully not the last, also this is the very first fic I write with _smut_... It's still weird, I know it's not the best, I know it can be improved and I'll try to write something like this again in the future, just be nice, please. This fic is inspired in the song "It was always you" by Maroon 5 (the song and the characters are not mine), Sherlolly as always. Especial thanks to those who commented and saw it at AO3.**

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><p><em><strong>It was always you…<strong>_

Sherlock opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that he was feeling _weird_, maybe he should tell John and take an aspirin or two to prevent getting sick. He stood up, enjoying the still sleepy feeling and went straight to the bathroom, were he proceeded to take care of his morning rituals. Once freshly bathed he dressed up and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

When he was about to finish his cup, feeling more awake now than a few minutes earlier he noticed his surroundings, he was not at Baker Street, how _odd_, all his things were here… The strange feeling hit him again after emptying his cup, it was a as if he wasn't being himself, and that feeling proved to be true when suddenly his body started to move, on its own, no matter how much he tried to stay still and keep from walking his body wouldn't stop.

He wondered if he had the same problem with talking, and sure enough he wasn't able to say a word, it was like being hostage inside his own body, he was just able to observe, but not to act. Well at least he now knew how it would feel to be paralyzed. … _Ok_, maybe that was not at all the way he should be thinking right now, but for some reason he felt as if he didn't have to panic.

In that state, he paid attention to what was going on, he (well, his body at least) had grabbed a bag and had just exited the flat where he had been in, he watched his clock, it was unusually early for him to be outside, his feet walked him towards the bus station, and once on it he told the driver to take him to St. Bart's… _at least it was a familiar place_. The ride was short and at arriving he walked a bit hurriedly to the building, he entered and walked the direction of the morgue, _good_, another well known place.

A few steps before he could push the doors open he turned, and walked into the employees area, interesting, maybe he was looking for Molly there… No, he checked a card, _with his name_, well he didn't remember asking for a formal way to be there, but it could be helpful. Once he had done that he walked straight to the lockers room, he opened one and saw his reflection in the mirror, with surprise he noticed the way he had dressed, it was not his usual attire, although he was wearing his black dress trousers and shoes he was also using a jumper, a boring and horrendous one, it looked more like something John would use than him, but he _couldn't_ take it off anyway, so… He placed the bag inside the locker and grabbed a white lab coat and his mobile, and then he walked back towards the morgue.

For some odd reason, instead of looking for Molly, or enjoy this new freedom to move around making experiments with any body part he could put his hands on, he found himself filling paperwork for a few hours, after that he went to the lab and did some test to various samples, not interesting tests, _common_ tests, when he finished those he went back to the morgue, performed some autopsies and filled more paperwork… Up until now there was nothing really alluring about this "_job_".

And then it happened, Lestrade walked in and asked him to fetch a body, something really weird since it was often Molly who did that. Once the body was settled over the examination table he heard voices coming from the hall, for no reason at all his heart rate started to race, and he rubbed his hands over the lab coat to get rid of the sweat on his palms.

It was something amazing how the moment seemed to freeze, the doors opening in slow motion pushed by a pair of small and delicate hands, and followed by _her_, she was saying something, and somehow she looked different, her pony tail was moving behind her, the new attire made wonders for her figure, she was wearing a suit, trousers, white blouse, jacket and a rather familiar coat and a red scarf… _Molly?_

Behind her was John, arguing with her about something. She walked toward the body and greeted Lestrade… in the way _he_ usually did, using a different name and she even seemed to enjoy the way the DI seemed annoyed by it. She smiled at him and he felt his stomach do a flip… _how weird_, and then she took a good look to the corpse on the table, she made a few questions and gave a quick glance to the postmortem report. He had already made his own deductions about the cause of death, and had he be able to tell them he would have already solved the case.

To his surprise Molly turned around a few seconds later, and gave them a complete and excellent speech, her deductions were flawless. Lestrade took note of what she said and then walked out, followed by John who thanked him. Molly looked at him for a second or two and then left without other word. The feeling of disappointment that he felt after that made him notice the loneliness around him.

He actually went out for lunch at some point; he ate alone at the canteen and then returned to the lab. He was now having a headache, seems like being in this state was not good at all. He had the centrifuge machine on, and was leaning over the table when he heard the door open. He opened his eyes and felt the blood rush to his cheeks when he saw it was Molly, she had taken off the scarf and for some unknown reason had unbuttoned the first two buttons of her blouse, she stood in front of him, what was the word for that… _casual?_ No, … well the way she was standing was _distracting_, she even passed her fingers slowly over her neck, he couldn't help himself from looking at her, especially since her cleavage was so exposed, only hidden a bit under the third button that was conveniently closed and she was smiling, he knew he was making a fool of himself, blushing and nervous at her sole presence, but his body was _still_ not cooperating with him.

She was asking him for body parts… _of all people_... And then the centrifuge stopped, beeping loudly, he turned around happy to have an excuse to stop looking but he felt dizzy for a moment, he leaned on the table for balance and was about to open the top to get the samples in there when she caught his wrist.

She was not looking at him now in that flirty way… that was the word: _flirty_; no, she was looking at him with a serious expression, she moved her hand again and placed it over his forehead, and he was surprised that his heart was still in his chest seeing how it was hammering against his ribs… she then told him that it was not good to be working in this stated of sickness, that he should go home and take the rest of the day off, her experiment could wait for another day, she even offered to tell Mike about him leaving early!

He had long ago deduced that this interaction was some sort of _dream_, where he was the pathologist, but seeing Molly acting the way _he_ usually did was completely mind blowing. After another hour of working (he would have stayed until the end of the shift, but Mike actually told him to leave), he went back to the flat where he had woken up that morning. _Why hadn't he noticed?_ Molly's building in this '_dream_' was where he was living; well at least there was no cat.

He entered the flat, feeling tired, the need to take a cup of tea was almost too much with the soreness in his throat and the shivers he was now experiencing, but instead of doing that he went straight to the couch and stretched over it. With a hand on his forehead he felt like he was _falling asleep_… the top of the entire weird things one could feel while dreaming. But then a sound made him open his eyes again, only to sigh a moment later, unsurprised by the sudden guest.

She dropped her coat and scarf over a chair and asked him if he had tea… _why was Molly at his flat now?_ Relaxing again over the couch he told her where the tea bags where, a few minutes later she made him sit up and placed a steamy cup in front of him, she sat down next to him, sipping her own cup of coffee. He thanked her and took the tea, the warm feeling of the cup on his fingers made him aware of how cold his hands were.

Molly placed her hand again over his forehead, then stood up and took something from the pocket of her coat, giving him a good look of her body in that very fitting suit, _was she swaying her hips that way on purpose?_ She returned and placed a pair of pills on his hands, telling him that John had made a prescription for him. With a nod he proceeded to swallow the pills, leaning back over the couch right after.

Molly looked at him, with worry in her eyes. He smiled and told her he was going to be ok, he looked away a bit frustrated at not being able to get used to the fast beating of his heart every time she was around him, but she reached once more to him, placing a hand over his shoulder, for the first time since being in this… what ever it was, he perceived how _nervous_ she was, she then told him how important it was for her what he did… or what he did in this '_dream_' anyway and he cursed his heart once again for beating that fast and making him blush again. She also told him how much she appreciated his willingness to help, and, blushing a little at this statement, that she had been worried about him and his wellbeing.

He thanked her, and was about to dismiss his work as '_nothing at all_' when she lifted her hand, placing it around his neck and kissed him… _when had she gotten so close?_ It was a short and chaste kiss, enough to make him quiet. She reached for the pills on the table, took one and swallowed it quickly, he asked why had she done that for, and she said that this way she was not going to get sick, and then she pulled him by the collar of the jumper and kissed him again, this time deepening the kiss, and moving until she was on his lap, _straddling_ him, her tongue making it's way through his lips.

When they pulled back for air he looked at her and the blush on her cheeks, her hands still on his neck, then she did it again, this time her hands making their way to his hair, pulling at the strands and making him moan, and he had never felt so _happy_, his heart was still beating fast and judging by her heavy breathing, hers too. She managed to make him open his mouth for her again, and their tongues met in a frantic battle for dominance. His hands had already made their way to her hips, pulling her closer to him, her warm body moving over him, _arousing_ him.

She broke the kiss and smiled, her hands now looking for the hem of the jumper, which she quickly pulled up and off of him, giving it a disgust look before throwing it somewhere behind her. He did the same with her jacket, sliding it down her shoulders while she kissed him again, moving her hips a little and making him groan. She started kissing his jaw, stopping to lick and bit his earlobe while working the buttons of the shirt he was wearing, his hands moving along her back, and over her butt, fingers wondering under the fabric of her blouse and over her warm skin. With his shirt open she ran her hands up and down his torso, her cold fingertips brushing against his nipples.

About to help her out of her blouse she stopped him, she smiled and then stood up, pulling him with her and heading to his bedroom, the cold air in the room making him shiver. He pushed her against the door of his room after she closed it, kissing her again and starting to unbutton her blouse with one hand, using the other to pull at her hair band to free her hair. He worked the buttons fast, moving the fabric aside to reveal a _purple bra_… he smirked internally at this version of his purple shirt, not stopping for more than two seconds he leaned downwards and kissed her breasts over the bra, making her moan loudly for the first time, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin in his mouth.

She pushed him towards the bed, making him fall on his back, with a devious smile she climbed over him, looking with appreciation at the bulge in his trousers, sitting on his lap again she worked the button and the zipper, making him moan when she worked the zipper slowly over his erection. She didn't stop there, pulling his boxers down and freeing him, her smile widening at the sight. She then helped him to remove them, taking extra time with his shoes, hers already kicked out somewhere in the way from the living room to the bed.

Molly climbed once again over him, sliding her hands over him, until her face was at his level, her body hovering over him, her belly barely touching the tip of his painfully hard member in that position, her hair falling from her shoulders tickling his chest, and her breast visible under her bra. She kissed him again, this time moving her body so that she was over his lap again, but not pressing herself over him, and he panted in frustration. This time he took his time caressing her skin, running his hands over her back relishing on the texture of her skin and the soft sounds she made when his hands pressed over her still covered breasts and over her bottom, pressing her down in an attempt to feel her, he's naked under her, and she still had some clothes on… _so unfair_.

Rolling around he managed to be over her, positioning himself in a more satisfying way, rubbing himself over her, his lips now moving down her neck and towards her breasts, he moved the fabric out of the way and took one hardened nipple in his mouth, running his tongue over it and making her moan again, he repeated the action with the other, all the while grinding against her, the signs of her own arousal going through the fabric, she was so _wet_, he hurried his hands working the clasp of the bra on her back.

He threw it before continuing to tease her, she was now panting and muttering his name in a low voice, with a hand he looked for the button of her trousers, undoing the button quickly and pulling down the zipper, dipping his hand under the fabric and feeling her over her knickers, which were soaked, and when he looked at her triumphantly he found a lustful gaze in her eyes, without warning she pulled at her own trousers, kicking them off and making him chuckle, she rolled them again, this time being her the one grinding over him.

She took him in her hands, stroking him slowly, before standing on her knees and telling him that she's clean and on the pill, he had enough conscience to nod his approval, she positioned him and then… _bliss_, he was sliding inside her, guided by her hand, both moaning at the contact. She moved over him, kissing him again before moving her hips, up and down, making them moan again. She rode him for a while, placing a steady pace that's too slow or too fast at times; her breasts bouncing with every move, his hips following her with every thrust; her hands wondering his chest while his gripped her hips, in a sudden motion he moved his hand to the place where they were joined and made his thumb press over her clit, making her almost _scream_. When she leaned again over him for another kiss he rolled them again, taking control over the motions and pushing himself inside her, she lifted her legs around his waist, his hands working on her breasts again, he quickened the pace, making her whimper and moan, her legs tightening around him and her hands pulling at his hair, their motions becoming erratic as they approached their peak, her panting breath, the way she moved underneath him and her now constant moaning told him she was very close, they kissed once more time and _then_ she arched her back, shouting his name while he used her orgasm to move quickly in between waves of her inner walls pulsing around him, looking again for her clit with his thumb to extend her pleasure. She shuddered under him, he kissed her and caressed her, never slowing down, and then he came, groaning, placing his head next to her neck, placing kisses over her skin…

His body was trembling, and suddenly she was not in the bed with him, lifting his head he noticed where he was now, a bit embarrassed he removed the covers from the mess on the sheets. He's sweating, his pulse racing and breathing still heavy, there was something different though: a change in the way he felt about Molly.

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><p>He spent the whole morning reviewing the dream, he blushed, he cursed, and he grew hard again, and felt embarrassed again. He knew what he was feeling; he couldn't deny it any longer, but why now? Why like that? He had saw it all from her perspective, he saw himself, from the smile on her greeting, the concern in her eyes, the sincerity of her confession, the passion in her kisses, to the lustful gaze and the frantic pace of her moving below him.<p>

It was not her who wanted to do all those things. It had been his dream, his subconscious, not hers who had created that dream. His most hidden desires haunting him all in a dream. The way he had acted towards her was a reflection of what he had saw her do, the way she felt about him was probably different, but his mind had created very accurate versions of what he had observed so it couldn't be far from reality.

A while later Lestrade called him, a simple case, not really interesting, but he went anyway welcoming the distraction, John joined him, noticing his mood but bothering him with his chitchat, telling him he needed something more to do, that he wouldn't be bored that way, that he would be able to focus with cases like this if his mind was distracted from a useful hobbie. Annoyed he told him to shut up, pushing the doors to the morgue open and striding inside, the _déjà vu_ amazed him.

There she was, standing next to the body, discreetly wiping her hands on her lab coat. This was so weird. But this wasn't his dream so he walked towards the corpse and proceeded to deduce, trying to ignore the voice inside his head telling him that it couldn't possibly be the same, _but it was_, pushing the thought out of his head even when he gave Lestrade the same data that Molly had given him in the dream.

Then they left to the crime scene, at least this part he hadn't dreamed, the distraction was very good for his mind, and he stopped thinking about the dream at all later. He should have known that it was not going to last.

His curiosity gave him the idea of experimenting on the effects of certain chemicals on the liver, he had the substances but he needed a liver. He entered the lab, this time completely ignoring the familiar sensation; Molly looked tired, her cheeks were red and she still hadn't seen him. Of course she smiled during the time he used his best smile to ask her for the liver; however the sudden beep of the machine brought back the dream, and he saw Molly sway when she turned around. To confirm his suspicions he stopped her, not surprised to find that she had fever, almost panicking when he lowered his hand from her forehead.

By pure instinct he said the same words that he knew had been said during this part of the dream. He did thought of escaping, run away from his own feelings and stay away from her, but his mind would probably give him more of those dreams… and he wasn't sure he could handle the frustration it was surely going to make him feel around her. He walked outside the hospital, sighing at the way the day was developing, if he was going to live this day the same way that in the dream, then he wasn't going to complain, not knowing what it had promised for the end of the day.

He called John, suddenly thinking that maybe he could change the speech that he could plan his confession for when the moment arrived. He then felt as if all the time he had spent trying to ignore his own feelings had been wasted, she had give him enough cues and signs before, but he had stood behind it, shielding himself in the friend status trying to stay behind the proverbial line to stop himself from hurting her, convincing himself that neither of them was good for the other. Looking back she had always managed to get what she wanted from him, apologies, smiles, attention, and the truth. Yes, because he was able to lie, he was a master at it, but he had found more than once that she often got to know the truth shortly after he had lied, unconsciously he had never wanted to disappoint her, that's why when she had done that drugs test of him he hadn't denied being high, not to her, and though he hated to say something hurtful, that day his mind wouldn't stand being seen as weak by his best friend either.

Letting himself inside her apartment had always been easy, there she was, lying on the couch and hugging a cushion, with her hair a little messy, face flushed with fever, soft pink lips and hideous jumper. And he knew what was about to happen, if he hadn't had that dream he would have know anyway. _How could he not see it?_ After all this time. It had been always her.


	2. Chapter 2

**From that devious part of my mind that keeps linking together songs of Maroon 5 with Sherlolly (seriously there are just few songs that don't fit, the group is probably a secret fan), I bring you another smut!fic based on a song. This time I chose "Lucky strike", from their album **_**Overexposed**_**. I tend to use the lyrics as much as I can because they compensate for the lack of dialogues, when it's about music you should let the song speak, that's what I think… Anyway, I listen to other bands as well, and I can do songfics of different songs, but Maroon 5 have this 'oh-so-suggestive' songs that makes it hard not to picture some 'spicy scene' from them. Believe me; I dare you to listen to "Kiwi", "Woman", or "Closer" (all by the same group) without having second thoughts… Hopefully this is better than the one before, and hopefully I'll keep improving (I just wish I could stop blushing…) if there are more. Thanks for reading! Special thanks to Liathwen-slays-dragons and Sherlockian87 for their support on the previous one.**

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><p><strong>Lucky.<strong>

He should have known. She had been acting different ever since his return from dead, he just hadn't wanted to recognize the fact. Sherlock Holmes loved challenges and he was having a lot of fun trying to convince her to lend him body parts, only now she was the one getting things done her way. So far he had apologized at least three times, and all that had a lot to do with the way she would look at him whenever he did or said something wrong. There was a very small amount of body parts for his experiments now, and he found himself trying to think of something clever to make her comply to his demands, but nothing was really working, unless you wanted to count the times when he had been forced to ask nicely or even politely for what he needed… and even then! He had tried to fight back as well, but he had to admit that she had finally moved on and was not receiving orders from him as easily anymore.

That was not a problem though. He loved to have something to occupy his mind with, he had delightful and complicated cases to solve, amazing scenes and substances and people to watch and study with his particular critical eye. Molly's games were easy for him, and he had been enjoying the time spent in putting together something different, something new to tell her, to best her in this challenge she had placed before him. No. The problem was different, but he was not going to surrender now and call his brother to send her back and get John instead.

John and Mary's daughter had been born a few days ago, so when this particular case was presented to him with the opportunity to leave the city for a few days, he hadn't really paid much thought when he had requested that Molly went with him, and she had said that he was lucky she was taking her vacation that week because she wasn't going to put her job aside just to assist him. Now, that was the problem.

John told him. Lestrade told him. Mycroft also told him. But he hadn't really understood what kind of problem he was in until he had spent a couple of days working on the case with her. She tended to be flirty around him, though not too much since she had been engaged and then had broken up with that failed copy of him, his deductions had led him to suspect that she had already gotten over her feelings towards her ex-fiancé. And lately he had no way to avoid her, she was always by his side, smiling, taking every opportunity available to rub against him, pretending it was an accident and leaving him with a surprised expression that tended to distract him when he was working, and she mocked him, making accurate and clever remarks about her own observations, making him laugh with her morbid humor, chastising him for not eating or sleeping properly, not wanting to hear a thing about his "ways". Oh yes, he was very lucky.

Going to that party had not worked at all. He had tried to speak to the suspect there and get some more information or leads towards the solution of this case. The man hadn't been there. The client and some other guests to the party had, however, managed to keep him there using precious time that he could have used to go after him and find out what his plans where, talking for hours about the gossip that had make their family become nervous about the imminent attack that the suspect was planning. He was bored out of his mind. Out of politeness he had indulged in a few drinks, thinking that maybe the slight numbness caused by the alcohol would make it easier for his mind to pretend he was paying attention at all.

Sometime later he noticed the lack of certain pathologist by his side. He found her on the dance floor, moving along some rhythmic music by herself. She noticed his gaze on her and smiled, making an uneasy feeling crept to his stomach, he shifted his gaze casually, pretending to be looking at the people on the place and not only her. When the song ended she walked back towards the table and sat down next to him, she was also suffering of alcohol effects, but he was sure that she hadn't had too much. Breathless and a bit sweaty, he shouldn't found that appealing, but her reddened cheeks enlightened her smile.

Later he found himself remembering the way she had danced, the music making her move her body in interesting ways, the shifting lights making it easy to notice her silhouette and the shapes moving underneath the fabric, not that he was paying attention at all.

Of course 'later' was the adjective in function there. Because suddenly she had told him that she was actually tired and wanted to go back to her room. They had been booked separated rooms in the hotel where said party was taking place; their client had invited them thinking that there were bigger chances for the suspect to act on what he pretended to do during a full week celebration of the head of the family, a wealthy man that was in charge of a big company and was celebrating his sixth decade.

It had been pretty upsetting the frustrated feeling that overwhelmed him when she had expressed her desire of retiring for the night. But he complied, not wanting to spoil the mood that she was in, knowing that even in his manageable drunken state he was propense to say something improper and make her angry, thus making him work with an uncomfortable and probably angry assistant the next day. No, that was not a good idea.

They walked slowly out of the party, hearing the music fading as they made their way back to the lobby and to the elevators there. She usually took the stairs, claiming that the rooms in the third floor weren't really that far, maybe trying to keep on condition with the stairs she climbed every day to her flat. He had already started to make his way towards the stairs when she stopped him. Ah, high heels, of course she was going to use those torturing shoes for a party, he was going to ask why she hadn't used her usual flat shoes or at least some with a shorter heel, as she was not used to those kinds of shoes and would probably get a splinter and very sore feet the next morning.

But before he could even say a word she had pushed him in the elevator and had pushed the button to the third level, he sighed in resignation. They were in the middle of the second floor when the lights went out and suddenly the lift stopped. He passed one of his hands over his face, he was going to cross his arms and lean against the wall of the elevator to wait, when Molly pulled his arm and clutched it tightly. He used his most sarcastic voice to say something about claustrophobia, but when she had just tightened her grip on his arm he had tried to reassure her, telling her that the lights were probably going to be back soon and they were completely safe.

Apparently that was not going to work, so fully knowing that there really was no one to make fun of him right now he pulled her into a hug. He moved his hands up and down her back, feeling the warmth of her body, lightly caressing her hair every time his hands went up. She murmured something against his chest, not quite sure of what she had said he looked at her with a lifted brow. Distraction? And how was he supposed to distract her inside a lift?

Luckily she was the one to come up with an idea, moving her arms to place them around his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss before he could even react. He had never suffered of an electric shock, or at least not of a strong one, but right now it felt as if his brain had short-circuited, sending a thousand sparks down his body, making his arms flail and her knees weaken with the sensation produced by her sweet, soft, warm and perfectly sized lips against his, leaving him shaking and starting a reaction that made him blush when she noticed it. Oh, well, he could control his drunken mind, but apparently not his drunken body…

He should have felt embarrassed, not expecting to become so aroused only with a kiss, but he had to admit that his years of abstinence were taking its toll on him, and she hadn't been acting like the innocent girl that everybody seemed to think she was. In fact the very vocal sound that had confirmed her discovery, followed with her triumphant expression told him that she was looking for a similar reaction from him, but she probably hadn't expected it to happen here.

He had tried to cover himself, trying to remember if the kiss had lasted just the few seconds that had taken his brain to react, or if it had, in fact, taken longer. Judging by how '_fast_' his body had reacted, it couldn't have been just seconds, a quick glance to her and her now messier hair and tempting reddened lips, told him that his brain had actually taken a minute or two to bring back the civilized, intelligent and trained part of him back to the present; allowing the wilder and more eager half to take control, mocking him now by reminding him how his hands had actually slid down her back and squeezed her bottom, how he had pulled her flush to him and had willingly allowed her hands to roam his body while he tangled his fingers in her hair before he could take hold of that glimpse of reason that brought him back to reality.

She bit her lower lip, now looking at him with her knowing eyes, he tried to say something intelligent, the elevator was still not moving and now it was him, the one who started to feel claustrophobic… and maybe a bit dazed, because he stood gaping like a fish a couple of times before giving up in his effort to say something to ease their current situation.

She giggled. He looked back at her with a frown, and she stepped once again close to him, bringing one of her hands to his nape and pulling him down for another kiss. This time he did not short-circuited, but it took him less than a second to surrender to the insistent and now more heated kiss.

He had just get used to the feel of her in his arms, and the texture of her lips and the sensation of her tongue sliding (in a totally wicked but enjoyable way on the top of his mouth) and battling with his own, that he didn't noticed when the elevator started moving again, it was until the 'ding' and the opening doors sounded that he felt her hand pulling him out.

He followed her silently to her room, just across from his, but she opened his door instead of hers, looking at both sides of the hall and pushing him again, this time making him almost fall inside his room. He looked at her confused, he could see her dilated pupils with the lights on the hall, but she didn't seem to be coming with him. She assured him that '_it_' could happen later, but not right now, he was about to complain when she showed him her tongue with a cocky grin, and told him that he al least had material to imagine just what he wanted to do… _later_… of course.

She then closed the door and the thud of her own resounded in the walls a second later. He looked down at his body, the obvious bulge in his trousers was one thing, his tie was undone and hanging from his neck, the first two buttons of his shirt were also undone and his jacket was hanging from his elbows… How had that happened again? She had reduced him to a complete mess in just a few minutes; maybe the drinks were stronger than what he had thought.

To top it all, she had told him to _imagine_ just what he wanted to do… with her. He cursed his overly active imagination, always useful when he was solving cases, practical and realistic about the natural and logical reactions that human beings had, allowing him to give an accurate description of the events that led to certain crimes. But this… through his mind raced different scenes, all of them involving Molly in little to not clothes, the reaction of her skin to simple touches and some complicated maneuvers, temperature, sounds, tastes and smells, in the further back of his mind the logical part wasn't helping, instead mentioning what hormones were working, what fluids were being produced and how beneficial would be to his levels of stress when they both…

He dropped to his knees, undoing his button and zip to free his now painfully engorged member, but stopping before pulling down the elastic of his pants... Wanting nothing else but to be able to relieve himself the way his mind had just teased him, this, was not something for him to _handle_... literally. Growling when he looked back at the door and the image of her chest moving up and down with her still heavy breathing, and the way her nipples were visible against the material of her dress, remembering how she had pressed her thighs together…

No, it couldn't wait anymore, it was already late and he refused to be haunted by her cocky smile during the night and probably a good part of the following day. She knew he needed to concentrate, he was sure he could solve the case tomorrow, but it wasn't going to happen if he stayed like this.

Whimpering a little he adjusted himself once again in his trousers, toed out his shoes and then threw his jacket behind him, not caring where it landed, he also undo the buttons of his sleeves and pulled at the tie letting it fall at his feet, deciding to unzip his trousers for comfort before opening the door again, and quickly moving to hers, a soft turn to the knob allowed him in. He found her humming the song she had been dancing back at the party, moving slightly while untying her hair, her dress resting at her ankles… It was his turn to smile, pleased with the sight.

She squealed when he wrapped his arms around her, with enough force to lift her up and turn her around. He dropped her on the bed; her knowing smile greeted him when she realized it was him. He shook his head with his own smile still in place, silently reprimanding her for her behavior and her obvious intentions of getting them to this point. She screamed again when he jumped on the bed right over her and kissed her again, pressing her into the mattress.

She responded eagerly, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist, while her hands continued their unfinished job on his shirt buttons. When it was open he moved up to let it fall from his arms when she flipped them over, accommodating herself astride him and leaning down to kiss him again, meanwhile her hands worked the only thing keeping his trousers in place, the button, pulling it a little to help him kick it off. He used her position to unhook her bra, removing it quickly before his hands were on her breasts. She moaned loudly, distracted by the sensation of his fingers pulling at her nipples, he rolled them again, needing to kiss more of her, unable to do it with her on top.

His mouth traveled, from her mouth to her jaw, down to her neck and over her breasts, he was enjoying far more the sounds she was making than the friction of their bodies now only covered by their underwear, letting his hands touch every inch of skin they reached. Though he had to admit that his predicament was still present and uncomfortable, she however still had some advantages, using her hands to slide down his back cupping his buttocks, making him buck against her, she then pulled at the elastic on his waist, allowing one of her hands to touch his bare skin, and move down until she…

If these were different circumstances he would have been embarrassed of the sounds he was making. But it wasn't every day that Molly touched him like that; he shivered a little, looking for her hand when her touch threatened to send him over the edge too soon. She rolled them up again.

For a fraction of second he felt vertigo, having landed at the edge of the mattress, avoiding falling only for a brief space, she looked at him with a surprised face, probably having felt the same fear for a second before they both started laughing at their good luck. Once the nerves passed however they moved to safer grounds, she stopped moving then, looking down at him and standing on her knees… He growled in frustration lifting himself on his elbows to demand her to get back to business, only to be surprised when she pulled his pants down his legs and did the same with her knickers a moment later. In the same frustrating fashion she left the bed to grab something from her purse… _Of course_. He thought when she rolled a condom over him and returned to her previous position over him, that cocky smile again on her lips.

He probably gripped her hips stronger than intended, but then she was taking him inside her warmth, tight and wetter than expected, she was completely capable of understanding and forgiving the bruising that was probably going to be there in the morning, and if her moan of pleasure was something to go by, she was actually enjoying it.

She then started moving over him, letting him slide in and out of her warm center with every thrust. His body, once again proving to be difficult to control when he was being controlled by the alcohol and the high of different hormones running through his veins.

One of his hands gripped her waist, trying to keep some control over the motions while the other moved up again to touch her bouncing breasts; his body demanded a quick pace but the sight of her always expressive face, showing undeniable signs of pleasure was not something he wanted to give up too soon. He lifted himself to a sitting position, making her moan with the change of angle, he opened his own legs, making it a bit more comfortable to her, giving her time to move her legs and wrap them around him again, all the while smiling and kissing her neck. He kissed her again, allowing his hands to caress her back and breasts before he started moving again.

He never knew how long they stayed like that, allowing each other to explore their bodies in such enjoyable way; at some point he increased his speed, helping the movement by holding her hips, his large fingers cupping each buttock. He looked up and kissed her again, never tired of the feeling, he moved a little, managing with a bit of effort (and a few giggles and moans from her) to be on hi knees, changing the angle again and increasing his speed in this new position, with her practically seated on him. It didn't take long after that, before she tightened her grip on his shoulders and tensed her body, he was kissing her, but her muffled moan was loud even that way. He felt her start trembling over him with the force of her orgasm; he hugged her closer but kept moving at the same pace.

Maybe it was the way her body was moving over him, or the pulsing of her inner walls around him, he didn't know, but a few thrusts later he reached his own peak, muffling his own scream on her neck. Their motions slowing down with every heart beat.

He lay down beside her, his hands still caressing her back absentmindedly, while her still steadying breath tickled his chest, from the window he could see the sky starting to get of a clearer shade, dawn was approaching. They were both lying upside down, the covers were larger at the bottom of the bed but he had pulled them over them anyway and the pillows at his feet were not really a good idea; at least his head wasn't hanging from the edge, he thought. He should have known. Things with Molly were never going to be the same after this case… but if he was lucky maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

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><p><strong>So... leave a comment? ... Maybe?<strong>


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